Season Unending
by Heiwako
Summary: How Ulfric Stormcloak met Elenwen.


"Dammit, Ulfric got here first," General Tullius groused as he dismounted.

There were two horses bearing the Windhelm colors already in the High Hrothgar stables as the Imperial contingent filed in. With Tullius, Legate Rikke, Jarl Elisif, Jarl Balgruuf, their housecarls, and Ambassador Elenwen's mounts included, the small shed was overly full. The Greybeards had no need for horses, but they had the building for their rare visitors. It was highly unusual for them to have this many guests at once.

"Of course he did," Elenwen said as she smoothly dismounted. "He's much closer than we were, he has a smaller contingent, and he had to be here first to prove his worth."

"He's also not going to be happy that the ambassador is here," Rikke murmured to Tullius. Elenwen smiled, not acknowledging the legate's words. "You know how much Ulfric hates the Thalmor."

"What was I supposed to do, Legate?" Tullius replied lowly. "She's higher ranked than me and has every right to be here. I couldn't exactly refuse her. Let the Greybeards deal with her if they don't want her here."

Elenwen had to stifle a chuckle at that statement. Tullius had looked as if someone had placed a fresh dog's turd under his nose when she had declared that she would be accompanying him for this delegation. As his contact with the Aldemeri Dominion, Tullius had been required to gain her permission to treat with Ulfric, and it had been clear by his reaction that he had never considered that she would want to be present.

The Thalmor knew she was breaking the rules by coming here, but she couldn't resist a chance to see her pet again. It had been too long since she had last played with him. It had taken every ounce of her willpower to walk away during his execution in Helgen. It was in the Thalmor interest to keep him alive and have the civil war linger as long as possible, but on what grounds could she have stepped in to prevent his death? No, better to stay uninvolved and see if her pet was clever enough to get away on his own.

Oh, how she had rejoiced that he had survived. The presence of the dragon had been both baffling and intriguing. Was it a hidden weapon of Ulfric's or had he simply lucked out with a random razing?

As the Imperial representatives stepped into the large conference room, Elenwen's gaze immediately found Ulfric on the far side. His back was turned to her, but she could see his profile as he animatedly spoke with his housecarl, Galmar Stone-Fist.

By the Eight, it broke her heart to see how much he had aged in a mere thirty years. He was no longer the wide-eyed innocent her people had captured. Of course, their time together had taken away a great deal of that, but his youth was long gone. He was handsome for a human, Elenwen had to admit, and his features had matured well, but there was something about him that still reminded her of the boy she had taken as her plaything in the Thalmor dungeons.

"Now that everyone is here, please take your seats," Arngeir announced as he sat at the end of the table to Elenwen's left. "I hope that we all have come here in the spirit of…"

As the head Greybeard called the meeting to order, Ulfric turned to take his seat. If she had not been watching him, Elenwen knew she would have missed the flash of terror on Ulfric's face that was immediately replaced by outrage.

"You insult us by bringing her here to this negotiation?" the jarl of Windhelm growled, refusing to sit. His housecarl placed his hand on his axe, but was stopped from drawing it by a quick gesture from Ulfric. "Your chief Talos-hunter?'

Snide comments and bickering broke out amongst the humans, but Elenwen only gave it half an ear. Her focus was on Ulfric-the set of his jaw, how his eyes narrowed with indignation, the way his shoulders were squared. How she missed his little posturings of bravery.

"I have every right to be at this negotiation. I need to ensure that nothing is agreed to here that violates the terms of the White-Gold Concordat," Elenwen said mildly in her defense when the delegation's attention turned to her. As if Tullius would have the nerve to even consider endangering the Concordat, but it didn't hurt to remind their Imperial allies who was really in charge. Not Elisif, not Tullius, but her.

"She's part of the Imperial delegation. You can't dictate who I bring to this council," Tullius added, right on cue. It was good to know that he would back her despite any personal feelings about her involvement. She would need to include a note about that in his dossier.

"If we negotiate about the negotiations, we'll never get anything done," Arngeir sighed. Elenwen made another mental note to find out more about the Greybeards when she got back to the Embassy. She didn't like having unknown factors in her plans. "Why don't we have the Dragonborn decide?" he suggested with a smile.

"By Ysmir's beard, the nerve of those Imperial bastards, eh? To think that we would sit down with that...Thalmor bitch. I say she walks or we walk," Ulfric said lightly, but there was a slight tremor in his voice begging the Dragonborn to side with him. Elenwen wondered if it was because he couldn't afford to look weak at the start of the proceedings or if he was really that scared of her.

She hoped it was the second.

The Dragonborn was silent as she considered her options. Elenwen could only imagine her worry that Ulfric would truly leave if she stayed, rendering the peace treaty void. "The Thalmor has no business here," she declared softly.

"I'm glad we're in agreement here," Ulfric sighed with relief.

"Very well, Ulfric. Enjoy your petty victory," Elenwen purred with disinterest as she stood. "The Thalmor will treat with whatever government rules Skyrim. We would not think of interfering in your civil war."

As the Thalmor left the conference room, she could hear Galmar and Rikke bickering again immediately. She let the housecarl's insults roll over her like water. It wasn't as if his opinion mattered in the slightest. He was a mad dog brought to heel only with his loyalty to Ulfric, and that was where his significance began and ended. The only thing that mattered was the feeling of Ulfric's eyes boring into her back as she sauntered out.

The Altmer studied the layout of High Hrothgar as she wandered its halls. The younger Greybeards did not seem concerned by her exploration as they continued their meditations. It was a shame; she would have enjoyed having them dog her feet as she poked about.

The great hall was painfully bare. There were almost no decorations other than a few banners with draconic script and some practical flowers they would need as herbs for poultices that could not survive on the mountaintop. Elenwen never understood the Nordic desire to keep their homes so bleak. Would it really have pained them to include a few rugs or throwovers?

Alinor, her home, was so beautiful with its impossibly tall crystal towers. Early human traders had described it as "made from glass or insect wings." Only humans would have portrayed the majesty of Alinor with such crass terms. The sun would break against the facets, splitting into fragments of rainbows that would dance against the ground and across the lower buildings. Everyone wore elaborate colorful clothes, turning them into walking tapestries.

It had been common for her and her sisters to compete amongst themselves for who could look the most beautiful for the day. They would prance in front of their mother trying to earn her favor as she applauded them. She would always declare them all her beautiful daughters before giving them small treats and shooing them to their lessons.

It made Skyrim so desolate in comparison. Everything felt like it was some shade of gray-the gravel of their roads, the stones of their homes, the towering mountains, even their sky would frequently slide into a gray pregnant with clouds. Once the snow fell, it would be a virgin white for a few hours until it was churned into a vile dark gray sludge.

Her explorations took her down a short corridor that ended with a single, simple bed. It looked like it was not currently in use since its mattress was stripped of any bedding. She sat on it and leaned back, listening to the echoes of the peace treaty being carried to her. Without any decor to absorb the sound of their voices, Elenwen could hear them almost as easily as if she was in the room itself.

The humans haggled and threatened, trading Holds and resources as simply as most farmers traded livestock or harvest crops. Elenwen didn't pay too much attention since Tullius would fill her in on the details later. Mostly she latched onto the tones of Ulfric's voice the few times he chose to speak. More often than not, he would let Galmar make the demands, his gravelly voice grating on Elenwen's sensitive ears.

Hearing her pet now reminded of how he first caught her notice. The Nords had proven resistant to torture, a fact discovered early in the Great War. Elenwen had suggested isolation as an alternative and that had worked exceptionally well.

Make a big, strong Nord suffer at the hands of a torturer and he had something to focus his hate against. Throw him into a completely white room with no sound of any kind and watch him slowly go rabid. Nords might live in a dour environment, but they were used to the constant company of others, the sound of music and the joy of drink. Take that away and you take away a man's strength.

It had been magnificent to observe and learn.

Then Ulfric had been captured. He had refused to identify himself to any of the justicars, refused to even speak. They had tried some rudimentary torture before throwing him into isolation. That's when things had gone astray. Instead of getting frantic, doing bizarre things to try to get their attention or create sound, the young Nord had settled into a meditative sitting position. He didn't look upset. Instead, he had looked… content.

Weeks passed and he had seemed to thrive on the plain food and small, silent room. There had been some escape attempts, as to be expected, but for the most part the young man had not been like any prisoner she had ever met.

That's when Elenwen had gotten involved personally.

"What are you doing here?" Ulfric asked, his voice abruptly pulling her from her memories. He blocked most of the doorway with his hands on his hips as he studied her.

"Waiting for your little, silly peace treaty to end," Elenwen said dryly, hiding the smile that was threatening to surface.

"And you just happened to pick my old bed to wait?" Ulfric asked, doubt heavy in his voice.

"It didn't look like it was in use," she said with a shrug. The jarl laughed, a sharp bark that ended too quickly when he realized that he was laughing at something she said. She patted the space by her. "Why don't you join me so we can speak privately for a moment?"

Ulfric paused, not sure how to respond. Accept and join her, silently consenting to her request? Or refuse and stand leaving him in a more awkward position?

Several moments passed before Ulfric chose to sit on the far side of the bed. Elenwen turned to face him, making sure that her knee was lightly brushing his. She liked how he flinched at the contact, but did not pull away.

Elenwen waited, letting the minutes tick away in silence. Most people would become uncomfortable-shifting as if needing to scratch an itch, playing with their hands, trying to make small conversation-but not Ulfric. The quiet comforted him, gave him time to gather his thoughts.

"My mark suits you," Elenwen said, finally, as she traced her finger along the scar on Ulfric's cheek. She had given that to him during their last session together before she let him go to return to Windhelm. "I missed you. Did you miss me?"

"No," Ulfric barked, jerking away, his cheeks blood red, making the scar stand out in white contrast.

Elenwen frowned as she casually backhanded him, making sure to not cut him with her ring. It wouldn't do to leave a mark. "Darling, you know I don't mind your refusals, but I won't tolerate lying."

"I'm not lying," Ulfric growled.

"Is that so?" Elenwen asked as she moved forward until her lips crashed against the Nord's. He returned the kiss hungrily, pushing against her, his mouth opening to hers instead of pulling away. She pinned him to the wall with her hands kneading his wolf cloak as she claimed his mouth. Heat poured from Ulfric's body, making her regret the layers of wolf pelt and black Thalmor uniform between them. He whimpered when she pulled away, a soft sound only she would have caught. "I think you missed me too."

"I did, mistress," he admitted, gasping when he caught the slip. Old habits died hard and she had trained her pet well. Indignation flared in his gray eyes. "I hate you."

"Hate is simply misplaced love, darling," Elenwen said, as she patted her pet's hand. "Who knows you better than I? After all we did share those cold nights together in your bed, you telling me all your secrets, whispering your dreams and hopes."

"That's before I knew what you really were," Ulfric snapped. He touched the scar on his face. "That was before…"

"Ulfric! Where are you?" Galmar's voice echoed through High Hrothgar's halls. "We need to leave before we lose the light."

Ulfric scrambled to his feet, fear of being caught found in her company plain on his face. He lingered, looking at her, the need to get away battling with the desire to stay. She knew how much it must hurt him to deal with the conflict of the happy memories together and the truth of what she really was. Of how he had laid himself bare to her and she had given him nothing but lies and pain in return.

"Stay," she murmured, lying back onto the bed. "We'll catch up on old times."

"Get out," Ulfric hissed.

"Of your old room?" she teased.

"Of Skyrim," Ulfric said. "Get out of my life. You have no business being here." Determined to have the last word, he stalked away towards the safety of his housecarl and the righteousness of his cause.

Elenwen smiled as she rolled onto her stomach and rested her chin in her hand. The most powerful, feared, respected man in all of Skyrim was still her plaything. She could break him again whenever she pleased. Of course, most of the fun was drawing out the agony, but everything in good time.

She could wait. She was good at waiting. Sooner or later Ulfric's usefulness to the Dominion would end and when that happened, he would be hers completely again to use as she wished.

Oh, the fun they would have.


End file.
